16 wounds and, what with the exertion, was unable for further fight. Eckhardt surprised us a bit by telling us that pistol duelling is nothing compared to a sabre duel. There's only one exchange of shots, and this usually is ineffectual, because the sights have been removed from the pistols and the combatants have only five seconds in which to aim. Eckhardt has never killed an opponen t-d uelling fatal- ities are unusual in Hungary-but he has wounded his man in all his duels except those fought with pistols. We gathered, in general, that whereas in this country Ham Fish can settle a matter by issuing a statement, he'd have to issue a chal- lenge if he were a Hungarian deputy. Love Call ^ N eager fellow who visited Taos, New Mexico, last summer relates that one of the sights of the place is a ceremony which takes place on clear, moonlit evenings. The young hucks, clad in white rohes, squat picturesquely on a bridge that crosses a roaring moun- tain stream and sing in their native lan- guage, while the maidens gather on either side of the bridge to listen. The first time he saw this pretty sight, our tourist timidly approached one of the Indian girls and asked, "What are they singing?" "Smutty songs," she told him. Grand Old Lady T HE career of almost any actress seems odd, once you get to think- ing about it, but the career of Mildred Natwick has its own special oddity. t\I- though she is a' slim and attractive lit- tle thing in her early thirties, she has for the past nine years specialized in what are called "character parts;" i.e., mothers, maiden aunts, grandmoth- ers, and other elderly types. It's got so that almost any producer in town would rather have Natwick in a gray wig and false bosom than the genuine article. .l\.t the moment she is, if you don't identify her by name, one of the ornaments of "Blithe Spirit," the Noel Coward play, impersonating a brisk and extroverted spiritual medium-a middle- aged one, of course. In a pensive mo- ment, Miss Natwick has figured out that the total ages of the characters she has played in her fourteen previous Broad- way appearances is seven hundred and ten years, or an average of a little over fifty. People get in the habit of bracket- ing her with Lionel Barrymore and Madame Ouspenskaya, and she can't really blame them. Miss Natwick's corner on stage senil- ity resulted, she thinks, from the fact that she flunked a College Entrance Board exam in physics, back in 1927. It was her intention to enter Bryn Mawr, and that ain't Shubert Alley. However, in working out one of the physics problems in the exam, she forgot to take the square root of a certain num- ber, and this resulted in her getting a mark one digit below the passing grade. Her mother sent her off to the Ben- nett School, in Millbrook, N ew York, where she got interested in the drama courses and was a gone goose. Three years later she was in a stock company in Baltimore, her home town. After a couple of years of this, she met Henry Fonda, who was then a member of a summer stock company on Cape Cod, along with James Stewart and Mar- garet Sullavan. :\1iss Natwick joined the company, stepping into the shoes of a departing character actress. She did so well that she landed a Broadway part that fall, playing a fifty-year-old . " c N ." woman In arry atlon. Miss Natwick has had three young parts-one as a maid in "Love from a S ". " s . Y E " tranger; one In tars In our yes, a musical in which she rumbaed with Jimmy Durante; and one as a twenty- five-year-old mother of nine children, . " M ' . L d " Sh ' k d . In Issoun egen. e s wor e In Hollywood only once; she was a young woman in the O'Neill film, "The Long Voyage Home," but a very battered young woman-a pr-st-t-te, in fact. She hasn't got any particular theory about how to play old women and thinks she unconsciously models some of her action after her mother; people are al- ways telling her that, in makeup, she's the spitting image of her mother. This makes both Miss Natwick and her moth- er rather moody. She has never gone out of her way to frequent the society of old ladies, feeling, she told us some- what sadly, that each of her mellow impersonations was going to be the last. , ---:- /, :-> "',.. 1// ( , :7JjW' I '\ .- J ":, } (4{c.\ ;-fS) 1 f \ . 1) (. \ "-II. , . . / 1/1 \ ( '. , / \ -; "- ,"\ : ./ / -..-...) \\- , . . , \ \ "...,jf / \ . ' I . , í \ ' \: \'\ '- \ \ ' '" ' \, J \ \ \,\" \\\ ' \ '...ç "" ',\, \ > ,,\\ ", " ", .\" \ M " : . , ;\\\ -H ,$. : - " ,Y : :-1\, \\\\"'" \ ,\' . '" It just shows how much she knows about producers. [Tnfiedged T HE latest international military tale is about a young Swiss brought up in the United States who returned to his native land when the war broke out, joined the Swiss Army, and served a strenuous year as a member of an Al- pine patrol. Tanned, healthy, and hard as nails, he came back to this country, and was soon summoned by his draft board. He was so sure of finding him- self back in uniform that he wound up his affairs before getting final word on his classification. Turned out he should have waited, because he was classified under 1 B, which means "de- ferred-fit only for limited military ser- vice." Seems he still had two of his baby te e th. Plainfield Teacl ers F ULL ) conscious that we were trail- ing a couple of other journals, we sought out Morris Newburger, the amateur humorist who founded Plain- field Teachers College, that institution of higher learning which appeared for three successive weeks in the Sundav- morning lists of football scores in the Times and Herald Tribune and, break- ing into the sporting news elsewhere, was spectacularly headed for an unde- fea ted season w hen Time spilled the beans, curt, clear, and complete. "\7" e found Mr. Newburger (Harvard '26) in his office at Newburger, Loeb & Co., brokers, and he told us that he had founded Plainfield Teachers during din- ner on the night of Saturday, October 25th. He remembers it well. During the en tire meal, for some reason, his mind dwelt on the problem of how ob- scure teams like Slippery Rock got in to the newspapers week after week. "Slip- pery Rock, dickety-dock, Slippery Rock, tickety-tock, Slippery Rock," he kept saying to himself, with variants. Sud- denly he excused himself from the table and telephoned the Times. "I wish to report that Plainfield Teachers defeat- ed "'Tinona, twenty-seven to three," he said. "Thanks a lot," said the Times. He then called the Herald Tribune and went back to the table. As easy as that it began. The next morning both papers carried the score. Mr. N ewhurger was stunned. As he recovered, a kind of godlike feeling came over him. On the following Saturday, Mr. Newburger attended a game in Phil-